


Into the ashes (and no return)

by ElixirBB



Series: Wolf land [2]
Category: Sicario (2015)
Genre: Depressing Thoughts, Emotional Trauma, F/M, Mentions of Sex, Murder, Violence, actually there is some sex not just mentions, cursing, same warnings apply as they did for the film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElixirBB/pseuds/ElixirBB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you hear them? The wolves? They’re coming and they’re coming for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the ashes (and no return)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Fever Ray's song 'The Wolf'. Also, very nervous to post this but I hope you guys like it! My Spanish is very very rusty but hopefully it makes sense and I didn't offend anyone. Also, maybe a little suspension of disbelief needs to be had for a certain part of this story.

(There are calluses on his hands. She doesn’t know how she doesn’t realize it until this instant, when she’s so far gone, she doesn’t think she can even remember her own name. His hands are trailing up her bare legs, leaving a path that burns her entire being. His mouth follows his hands, pressing open-mouthed kisses until Kate squirms and bites her bottom lip, hands fisting the sheets underneath her.

 

His tongue dips into her bellybutton, his fingers toying with the top of her cotton panties and she doesn’t even _care_ that they’re plain. She doesn’t _care_ that she’s probably not the most beautiful woman that’s been underneath him, _just_ that she’s underneath him and she feels like she’s going to _fucking burst_.

 

His body is hot and heavy atop of hers, but he’s a comfort that she hasn’t had in so fucking long that she doesn’t even care anymore. So, she wraps her legs around his waist, tilting her head back in supplication as he slowly lowers her panties down her legs and tosses them on the floor, joining the rest of their discarded clothing. He brings his lips to her neck, sucking, kissing and biting as she reaches behind her to unclasp her bra.

 

They’re naked and he’s pressing against her in _all_ the right places and Kate feels like she’s going to die. She digs her heels into his back, dull nails digging into his back. He’s not gentle, she doesn’t _want_ him to be, doesn’t think he even knows _how_ to be gentle anymore-maybe he did, once upon a time, maybe when he was with his wife-but Kate is not his wife, she’s a replacement, she is a distraction from the animal he’s become and the target she’s well on her way to becoming.

 

One of his hands is tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so more of her neck is showing and he places kisses on her collarbone, teeth scraping against her skin and she shivers, arching her back and his other hand slips underneath her, pushing her closer to him and she chokes back a gasp because- _God,_ he’s so fucking deep and _there_ , she moans, _there._ She’s an incoherent mess and _so fucking close_ , her toes curl and her entire body tenses.

 

“Do you hear them?” He pants, his accent breaking through her blissful haze.

 

“What?” She asks, her voice is breathless and she’s weak, her body trembling, on the cusp of her orgasm.

 

“Do you hear them? The wolves.” he whispers, the hand in her hair gripping tighter. “They’re coming and they’re coming for you.”

 

He bites on her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark and Kate howls in pain, arching her back and falling into the orgasm he laid out for her body to feast on. “Kate.” He murmurs, “Kate. _Kate.”_ )

 

Kate jerks awake with a gasp, breath heaving. She leans forward, chest rapidly falling up and down, body shaking and soaked with sweat. She looks around her and recognizes the jet. She glances behind her and sees Matt sprawled on the couch, snoring above the engine noise. She blinks, tears stinging her eyes and she can barely see her trembling hands. She looks up and sees Alejandro, looking at her with a blank expression, just studying her. Maybe with a little bit of interest. Maybe with a little bit of reservation. Maybe even with a little bit of want.

 

She remembers the way his hands felt on her skin and the way _he_ felt on her skin, the way he felt _in_ her and she wants to _vomit_. She can feel the bile rise in her throat and without a second glance at him, too afraid that he’ll somehow read her thoughts or worse, know what she dreamed about, she stumbles her way to the bathroom, crossing the aisle in three steps and slams the restroom door close, vomit already passing through her lips as soon as she locks it.

 

She doesn’t puke much, but enough to recognize how fucking _stupid_ she is.

 

She rinses her face, splashing cold water on it and patting it dry with paper towel. She dries her hand and studies her face in the mirror. She has bags underneath her eyes. Her skin is pale, too pale (Cuba didn’t do her any good) and clammy. Her hand reaches the top of her shirt and she yanks it down in a hurry, trying to find any lasting mark.

 

(There’s nothing. There are no teeth marks. Her skin is unblemished except for scattered freckles.)

 

_A dream_ , she thinks, _it was a dream. It was a dream._

 

She unlocks the door and makes her way back to her seat, steadily ignoring the way Matt is still snoring and the way Alejandro’s eyes follow her every move.

 

_(Do you hear them? The wolves? They’re coming and they’re coming for you.)_

 

She’s thankful that the landing of the plane masks her body’s sudden urge to start shaking again. 

* * *

 

She recognizes the people as the same people from last time.

 

There’s Delta Team, or how Reggie likes to call them, _Team Douchebags_ and she almost smiles thinking about it. Except, she doesn’t.

 

She’s in the back, sitting next to Matt and Alejandro and his cologne invades her senses, drowning her and she wants to close her eyes but every time she does, every time she so much as _blinks,_ her dream rears back at her and it leaves her breathless and shamefully wanting more. (It’s always more with Kate. Always wanting what she can’t have.)

 

She’s staring at her cup of coffee that tastes like tap water until she feels it start to cool. She’s missed the majority of what’s being said. Only that it’s similar to last time-another informant, who with methods Kate isn’t supposed to know about, or even remotely be interested in knowing about, could help them with their case (a case that Kate, also, knows nothing about.)

 

She lets out a muffled sigh and she can see from her peripheral vision, Alejandro turn his head and stare at her. Kate is just a little bit proud of herself that she stays resolute and stares straight ahead, not letting her eyes drift to her left to where Alejandro is burning a hole through her. (She clenches her fist around her chair until she’s sure her knuckles are white.)

 

She can only hope that this ride along is less eventful than the previous one.

 

(It’s not. _Of course_ , it’s not.) 

* * *

 

She’s in a car with a driver who’s name she’s not too sure of, Steve, who still hasn’t shaved off that grotesque moustache and still has an STD he’s not too sure what it actually is, or who he actually got it from and Alejandro.

 

Just like last time.

 

Except, it’s not so cut and dry.

 

When they cross the boarder, Kate holds her breath and forces herself to look at the decaying and headless bodies swinging under the bridge. She’s horrified to see that they look fresher than the ones previous and her stomach rolls with the thought that more people have died because of the fucking war on drugs.

 

She blinks rapidly when she notices that they veer off the familiar path. She can hear Steve talk into his earpiece but she barely registers the words, only registers her surroundings and how she desperately wishes that Reggie was with her.

 

(She kept the truth from Reggie. Instead, telling him that she’s going to visit her parents in Buffalo.

 

Reggie is skeptical and for good reason. He’s known Kate for so long and he knows that she would never willingly go to Buffalo more than she’s required to. “Again?”

 

Kate nods and twirls her beer in her hand. “Yeah, you know my mom and dad, they’re worried. Might as well put in my dues as a daughter.” Reggie has met her parents on the several occasions they’ve visited her in Arizona. Her mother is smitten with Reggie and has often and not-so-subtly told Kate that _Reggie would_ _make great boyfriend material._ The first time her mother tells her this, she laughs until her throat hurts.

 

He nods and doesn’t believe her, because Kate, she later finds out, is a fucking _horrible_ liar. Which doesn’t bode so well for her choice of profession.

 

“You gonna be safe?” He asks and she knows that he knows she’s not going anywhere _near_ Buffalo.

 

She shrugs. “You know how it’s like in Buffalo.”

 

He snorts. “Yeah, sure. Just…don’t rely on them to watch your six.”

 

“The only person I trust to watch my six is you.” Kate confesses.

 

Reggie raises his beer. “I’ll drink to that.”)

 

She’s jolted out of her memory when the truck comes to a halt in front of a shady motel with a field across from it. Kate can already see figures on the field passing around a soccer ball and she feels a ball form in the pit of her stomach. _They’re kids,_ she thinks, the words desperate to leave her throat, _what the fuck are we doing so close to kids?_

 

“They’re _kids_ here.” She hisses to Matt as she stomps towards him, her fists clench. “What the _fuck_ are you even doing here?”

 

Matt rolls his eyes at her and dismisses the same guy she remembers punching Reggie. The guy shakes his head at her and she can see the distrust and disgust on his face. She wants to claw the expression off but she keeps her fists closed and she knows her nails are making crescent shaped moons in her palms. “Change of plans. Our informant is being a little shit.”

 

“They’re kids here. They’re _innocent_. They don’t need to see this shit.” She repeats through clenched teeth. And _oh God,_ what if they get caught up in this? What if they see something they shouldn’t? _What if they die_?

 

Matt glances at Alejandro with hooded eyes but Alejandro keeps his back towards them, even though Kate _knows_ he can hear their conversation. (She doesn’t know _what_ the glance means and there is a feeling in her stomach that tells her she doesn’t _want to know_ because if she does, she’s afraid she’ll never come back from this. Because once you know, you _know_.) “Kids die everyday.” Matt shrugs, “They keep their noses clean, play their precious Fùtbol,” he says this with a mocking and supposedly humorous accent but Kate just thinks he’s sounds racist as fuck, “and maybe, _just maybe_ , they won’t get their brains splattered.” He takes out a pack of gum and sticks a piece in his mouth, offering Kate one. She doesn’t take it. “Look Kate, half those kids will end up in the drug war one way or another and the other half will likely end up dead. It’s just the way it is.”

 

He says it so casually, as if it’s a normal thing for him, and it may just be a normal thing for him, but it’s not for her. “You’re heartless and fucking disgusting.” She tells him.

 

(She thinks she sees Alejandro’s shoulders move and it could be a flinch, could be a wince, could be a shrug, or could be the fucking sun in her eyes but everything about this is _wrong_.)

 

He laughs loudly and in her face. “And yet, you’re _here_. You’re just like us, Kate. Admit it.”

 

She shakes her head. “I am _nothing_ like you.” She points to the kids whose laughter and shrieking voices she can hear. “Those are _kids_.”

 

Matt waves her off. “If you’re so worried about them, fucking go to them. Be the warm-hearted American or soothe some sort of maternal fucking instinct. I don’t fucking know and frankly I don’t fucking care anymore.”

 

She’s so angry, her body is shaking and she can feel her palms sting and she thinks her nails have broken through the skin and she wonders if blood pools under her nails. She looks at Matt who is looking at her smugly and at the other Delta team members who seem to be openly mocking her, Steve who is staring everywhere _but_ at her and Alejandro who has stayed silent this entire time, his back turned to them. Turned to her.

 

(She’s not cut out for this. She’s not cut out for _any_ of this and _fuck_ she wishes she was back in Arizona.)

 

She nods and turns on her heel.

 

“Where the fuck are you going, Katie?”

 

Her back tenses at the sound of her nickname. “To soothe my maternal instinct.” She says over her shoulder in spite. It’s a lie, she has no maternal instinct, one of the many reasons her ex-husband is now her _ex-_ husband. “And do _not_ fucking call me _Katie_.”

 

(She makes her way to the edge of the parking lot and makes her way across the small street quickly, her boots kicking up sand as she stomps her way towards the kids. It’s so unprofessional and so unlike her and she knows that this will ruin her, but she was already ruined the first time she agreed to this shit-show.)

* * *

The kids are happily chatting away in Spanish with each other. Some of them stop and stare at her, eyes going wide and a little girl gives her a toothy grin and waves and Kate gives her a small smile back, her stomach suddenly coiling because as much as she wants to argue, Matt’s right in that half of these kids will end up in the drug war in some way or another and the other half will end up dead.

 

There’s a set of bleachers that are run down and wobbly and Kate doesn’t know exactly how much weight it’ll hold, but it’ll do for now. There’s a boy sitting just a few seats away from her, his hands running over the soccer ball in his hands.

 

As Kate looks around, she notices that there are a few parents scattered around the field. All of them looking at her as if she’s crazy. _They wouldn’t be wrong,_ she thinks _, I am crazy._

 

In the distance, she can hear machine guns and her hand automatically goes to the hilt of her gun at her waist, body twisting around and it’s only when recognizes that the sound is coming from miles away and _not_ from across the street does she allow her body to relax, but not completely.

 

The boy is staring at her, his brown eyes expressive and taking in the way her hand stays above her gun protectively. He eyes her vest and her badge and his eyes light up in some kind of hope as he shuffles towards her slowly but surely. “Hablas español?” He asks.

 

Kate blinks. “Un poco. Hablas inglés?”

 

He scrunches his nose and holds his index finger and thumb a sliver apart. “Little.” He points to her. “Papa.”

 

She frowns and looks around her but doesn’t notice anyone around her. “What? Qué?”

 

He points to her badge again and says. “Mi padre. Policia.”

 

She gets it now. He’s speaking in broken Spanish as if to make it easier for her to understand than the fluency she’s hearing from the kids and their parents in the distance. _Smart kid_. “Donde es tu mama y papa?” _God_. Her high school Spanish teacher is probably rolling over in his grave.

 

“Mama trabajar y papa…” he turns his head away and Kate is shocked by the tears that fill his eyes. “muerto.”

 

She understands _that_ unfortunately. “Lo siento.” She says softly and it seems like all she’s doing is apologizing these days. She looks across the field and she can see them storm the motel and she can almost hear the commotion. The boy hears it too and he curiously looks over. “ _No_!” Kate yelps, leaning over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t look.” She orders him, desperation in her voice. “Don’t look.”

 

He looks at her strangely but turns his head the other way. “Tell me about your papa.” Kate says.

 

The boy frowns and then his shoulders slump and Kate mentally curses herself. “Bueno.” He says in broken and accented English. His voice breaking. “He was bueno.”

 

Kate finds herself nodding.

 

The little boy perks up, his hands jamming themselves into his pockets. After a few moments he takes out a crumpled piece of paper that has too many creases and is worn around the edges and it’s only when she stares at it does she realize it’s not a piece of paper but instead a photo. Her breath catches in her throat as she looks at the grainy but familiar image of a man.

 

_(“El Medellín?”_

_“Freeze! Step away from him.”_

_“Put that down.”_

_“I mean it! Move away from him right now.”_

_“Don’t ever point a weapon at me again. Catch your breath and get back out there.”)_

 

She failed him, Kate realizes. Oh God. Oh God. _OhGodohGodohGod._ _I tried_ , she thinks desperately, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she stares at the boy in horrified silence. She tilts her back and stares at the sky, letting the sun burn her skin and she lets out a guttural cry, that’s part laugh and part sob. The last time this man was seen, the last time _she_ saw this man, he was held at gunpoint by Alejandro and it’s something they both have in common, she finds, except _she_ survived when he obviously _didn’t_ and now Kate is looking at his mourning son and he’s so ignorant of the fact that she couldn’t save his father.

 

“Lo siento.” She tells him. “Lo siento. Lo siento.”

 

He frowns and shuffles closer to her as she grips the photo tightly. He pats her on the back, trying to comfort the strange woman who doesn’t belong here. _I don’t belong anywhere_ , she thinks.

 

She hears a whistle and she looks over at Matt who’s waving her over and she’s a little bit surprised because she thought she’d be left behind, it’s maybe what she deserves and a part of her is desperate to _not_ go back them, to not to go back to Alejandro with the knowledge that he likely murdered this man. And she doesn’t even _care_ if this cop was corrupt, he was _human_. And who is _he_ , who are _they_ to think that they’re any better than the Cartels?

 

“I have to…I have to go. Adiós.” She says, pushing the photo back to him.

 

He shakes his head and closes his small hand around hers. “Luck.” He says, gesturing to the photo. “For luck.” He points to himself. “Se llama Eliseo.”

 

“Soy Kate.”

 

He squeezes her hand and walks with her until he’s in the middle of the field and kicks the soccer ball that comes at me. “Adiós Kate.”

 

She can feel tears make their way down her cheek and she shoves the photo of the dead cop in one of her pockets as she makes her way to the motel. She tries her best not to look back at the field, but as she gets in the truck, her head turns and she makes out the images of the kids playing and laughing over a soccer game and her chest tightens, the picture in her pocket burning a hole.

 

She stays glued to her side of the car, hand gripping the handle tightly, her body tense and if Alejandro notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

* * *

 

She’s stupid to think the mission is over. It’s not over until they cross the border into United States territories.

 

The scene is similar to the first one she’s in. There are Mexican men in cars with machine guns too big for them and Kate watches in silence as everyone gets, giving warnings and when those are not heeded, gunshots ring out.

 

Kate is on the lookout, still in truck. She’s sweaty, she feels sick but she has her gun out. Her eyes catch Alejandro’s form. He’s facing her, face twisted in professional rage as he shoots. There is a figure that crawls behind him and Kate can see the shadow of a gun and without thinking, she raises her gun in Alejandro’s direction and shoots.

 

_It would be so simple_ , she thinks, _to move my hand to the right instead of the left_. So close to him that it would be labeled an accident. It could be revenge. Revenge to for the dead officer. Revenge for everyone else who dared to cross Alejandro’s path in his own quest for vengeance. Revenge for _her_.

 

_(Don’t ever point a weapon at me again.)_

 

His head pops up at the sound and he looks behind him and then at her and he nods at her, giving his thanks. She can see that he almost frowns, eyes attempting to seek hers out when she doesn’t nod back.

 

Instead, Kate is frozen in terror when she sees the guy she shot wasn’t even really a man, but a boy probably just out of his teenage years and she thinks back to Eliseo and she thinks back to what Matt said and she’s _no_ better than Matt or Alejandro. _She’s no better_.

 

She’s just as much a killer as they are.

 

She’s just as guilty.

 

(Everyone gets back to the trucks and soon they’re moving again, leaving in their wake a trail of dead bodies.) 

* * *

 

She texts Reggie as soon as they’re over the border, into USA land and she can breathe a little easier, and tells him that she’s _coming home soon_ and _can he please come pick her up at Luke._

 

Reggie answers her automatically, messaging her to tell her when she’s _on the plane and on her way back._

 

She finds that she can’t help but look at Alejandro on the plane ride back and she vows to get answers, if not for her then for the dead cop and if not for the dead cop then for his son who is still mourning the death of his father.

 

(But mostly, for her, because there is still a part of her that is railing and begging that it to not be true.) 

* * *

 

Matt and Steve are with the informant and as soon as the door shuts, she’s up and grabbing Alejandro by the arm.

 

He pauses and looks down at her hand wrapped around his arm. His expression isn’t friendly and not for the first time, she thinks that there is _nothing_ friendly about the man in front of her. “Get.” He says slowly, as if she’s dumb (and she is, she’s _so_ dumb), “Your hand off of me.”

 

She doesn’t let go. “What happened to the police officer in Mexico?”

 

He narrows his eyes and doesn’t answer her.

 

It’s _all_ the answer she needs and everything she doesn’t want. “Did you know he had a child? That he had a _son_?” There is desperation in her voice and there is _always_ desperation in her voice nowadays. “He had a _family_.”

 

“ _So did I_.” He says and she can _feel_ the painful memory he’s remembering and she feels shame, if only for a moment.

 

“That doesn’t give you a right!” Her voice is rising and her hand curls around his bicep tighter. “You’re _worse than they are_!”

 

Her breath is stolen from her when he slams her against the wall. The man standing guard outside the integration room looks the other way and Kate knows she will get no help from him. She will get no help from _anyone_ here.

 

“He had a son.” She repeats softly and she’s horrified to find the tears she’s kept at bay for so long have finally come undone and are streaming down her face. She’s trembling as she reaches into her pocket and takes out the picture, slamming it on Alejandro’s chest. “He was an _officer_. He was one of _us_.”

 

“He was corrupt.” Alejandro is furious, she knows this because underneath her palm, his heart is beating erratically and his nostrils are flared but Kate ignores that. She’s almost dizzy with the scent of him that surrounds her (and suddenly she’s overwhelmed by her dream and was it _just this morning_? It feels like forever ago.)

 

She laughs and it’s bitter and humorless. “We’re all corrupt.” She shakes her head, tearing falling one by one and she freezes when she feels his thumbs wipe them away and she closes her eyes, just for a moment, but a moment is long enough.

 

_(Do you hear them? The wolves. They’re coming and they’re coming for you.)_

 

She lets out a cry, unable and unwilling to be caught in the same situation again. She pushes against his chest, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt, when he steps away from her. “ _Fuck you_.” She croaks. “ _Fuck all of you_.” She blinks and trembles, clenching her hands into fists and she deflates. “Don’t…tell Matt to forget I ever existed. I want nothing to do with him anymore. I want nothing to do with _you_ anymore.”

 

She can feel her phone buzz with messages she knows are from Reggie and she lets her feet carry her to the exit. She turns her head to look at Alejandro who stares at her and she can tell that his body is shaky with rage, or maybe fear, maybe even regret, she _doesn’t know_. “I should have killed you that day.” And then she laughs, hand clenching around the photo as she slams it on a lone table in the hallway. “ _You_ should have killed me that day.”

 

But he didn’t for reasons that she still doesn’t believe and reasons that she doesn’t entertain and _she_ didn’t because she’s _dumb_.

 

(She’s so fucking dumb.)

* * *

When she steps outside the Gate, she finds Reggie leaning against the hood of his truck anxiously and he pushes off as soon as he sees her, eyes trailing over her. “Kate.” He takes one step towards her.

 

She holds up one hand, her spare hand clenching around her stomach and she barely makes it to bushes before she vomits and sobs and Reggie is holding her as she falls apart for all to see.

 

“ _Buffalo,_ huh?”

 

She wants to laugh but instead she just continues to cry. 

* * *

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Reggie asks her as soon as they get into the car and he starts driving her to Sedona.

 

“No.” She tells him. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

* * *

Reggie offers to stay the night but she waves him off, thanking him for everything and locks the door behind her.

 

She turns on every light and every fan and she gets into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down her body, eyes closing.

 

_(Hands trailing across her body. Her back arching. Lips leaving a scorching trail all over her. Delta team. Matt. Steve. Eliseo and his dead father. The nameless other children. Juarez, Mexico. The boy she shot. Alejandro.)_

 

Her eyes are wide open in a second and she leans against the cool shower groaning and twisting her body.

 

She dries herself and slips into a t-shirt and then slips into bed. Her sheets are cool and her bedroom window is open to let the breeze in.

 

In the distance she can hear wolves howling and she muffles a scream into her pillow.

 

_(Do you hear them? The wolves? They’re coming and they’re coming for you.)_

 

_Let them_ , she thinks, _let them._

 


End file.
